Trying to figure out where I fit in the scheme of things. Life, Love, Neuroscience, Psychology, My Manic-Depression, and my place in this world.

Friday, January 29, 2010

exude

Busyness is no excuse for lack of creative output. While the time one has may be limited the time in which one creates should never go by the wayside. Would that I were going to school solely on loans and grants, rather than paying for it, at least partially, with work, I would have the time I want to devote to creation.

I always feel like there is something in me that needs to get out. it isn't a matter of the nature of output or the quality others apply to it, it is about a vision which I cannot help but share. When asked to make my work more accessible, though I fight with the temptation, I avoid doing so. It isn't because of simple pride about the "rightness" of what I intend to do, or because I don't believe that being more accessible wouldn't benefit me, but because If not fully expressed, what is lurking inside my mind will continue to stew, and boil, and percolate until m mind is no loner my own; until I am filled with the lurkings of ideas unfulfilled, and passion put towards the wills of others.

when I am obstinate and choose to perform my songs improvised, it isn't because I wouldn't be able to rehearse and perform songs. Of course that would take me a huge deal of time, and I would need to write songs in a slightly different way. I Improvise because there is so much melody, and interaction, and desire to produce in my head that I am not satisfied simply performing songs which already exists. For me the creative process, the act of making something new, is truly fulfilling. When I perform a song I have written, I enjoy it, I enjoy the feeling of playing it, but when I improvise I feel something entirely unique; I feel the deep satisfaction of taking that which is inside and putting it out.

If I do not I will burst.

I am irrepressible. This is half because of my neurochemical deficits, and half because I have found that creation is nigh the only thing that makes life worth living.

I am not producing to give myself notoriety, though I do want people to hear me, to read me; I am not producing to say that I have; and I am not producing to make something which will last longer than me; I am producing because I have to.

It doesn't seem like it would be as simple as that, but in the end, it is.

I must create. The fact that in every class, every day of work, every moment of distraction, I am exuding and idea, or a verse, or a melody, or a simple thought which will later build a story. I am not ever comfortable with lack of output. Everything I do gives me reason to create more.

I don't suggest that this makes me unique. I imagine that if more people truly knew themselves they would see that there is also output in them which needs to go out, I simply suggest that I have found that which is in me doesn't sit well. The things I must put out, really aren't going to stay silent without me wanting to explode.

Lack of time is no excuse, because there is never lack of desire, and never lack of inspiration, and never lack of reason.

Produce.

that is all I can do

Create

that is all I am

the times I feel most alive are when I create, when I make, when I become something new.

Would that those were my only hours. I will do what I can to make a life where creation is the goal, and the only goal. Until then I will post sporadically, and burst with ideas. I will fill notebooks, and play songs which no one will ever hear; and gradually I will put out more and more of that which yearns to escape from the rigid edges of my mind, until I am satisfied, or until I am dead.

3 comments:

Enternal Love:Grab hold of the utmost love, gaze upos its eternaty. Passionate images enclose you in a dream. Chosing illusion over reality. Dreams over life. Pleasure over freedom. Your desires take hold where you're sheltered. Only to get a glimps of a healing wish. Leavinf unheard echoes behind. Waiting for the miracle that will embrace your soul. You're touched by the unblemished angel. Your ambitious heart is betrayed, lost and wretched. Invisible to the eye, controling over your mind, Precious memories will stay at ease. Intertwined into a collapsed promise. Only to remember your unconditional detemination. So the fragile body has warmth.

Just thought I's share. This is my opinion on what its like with a mental disorder. Thanks for sharing your blog entry with me.

http://forbiddenregrets.blogspot.com/

-Real Diary of my life with Major Depressive Disorder and Anxiety Disorders. There's two worlds, ours...then thiers. I'm tired of hiding the dark side.

About Me

My main blog is at http://plus.ly/patch615 I'm a relatively recent graduate of UC Davis, with a Psychology BA. The bulk of my writing here was to help me figure out my Bipolar Disorder, and OCD. I plan to become a research psychologist. I particularly want to study the neural basis of story telling behaviour, and differences in language perception and production among schizophrenics. For various reasons I'm interested in anarchism. Despite my strong left leanings, I don't hold people's belief's against them. I'm agnostic (a hazard of being a strong empiricist), a Vegan, and I love bikes, books, and music. I'd like to think I deviate from the norm in a lot of fields but so does everyone. nonetheless I don't bite and I'd love to talk to anyone about nearly anything.